No Cure For Love The Epilogue of an Incident
by Kit49
Summary: He had always been like coffee with nothing to curb the intensity, and I felt something that I wasn't too keen on inspecting or admitting. A short LJ story of developing love.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first L/J fic, and it was originally going to be a one shot, but I just got lazy in the middle of it and decided to break it up into two or three parts. I'm not sure when I'll update next, seeing as I'm experiencing the calm before the storm right now with my choir and school. I feel the need to apologize before hand for my lack of ability to make the story very authentic. I'm horrible at grammar and spelling, and I'm even worse at British terminology, seeing as I'm American. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it despite all that, and hope you take a second to review.

Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed.

No Cure For Love – The Epilogue of an Incident

Chapter 1: Of Staring Contests and Enigmas

He was staring at me again. I could feel his gaze on my face, and from the corner of my eye I could see his body half turned in my direction. I continued my conversation with Alicia, but quickly enough I lost my train of thought. He was staring at me, and it was so damn distracting.

"…and of course it was all bullocks, so I told him to shove it and left. Lord, what is happening to boys these days?" Alicia continued in her usual manner, bragging about her latest conquest, while I stared blankly at her. The lull in her stream of dialogue was my cue to sigh sympathetically and shake my head.

"Yeah," I said in a generic, noncommittal sort of way.

Just then the professor walked in. "Ladies and gentlemen," (I mentally grinned at this. Calling kids like the Marauders "gentlemen"? Hardly fitting). "Please forgive my tardiness. I would like to take this moment to remind you - young adults as you are - that magic is_ not _to be used in the hallways. That includes booby traps of any sort." She sent a pointed look in the direction of Sirius Black, who responded with an over-exaggerated visage of innocence.

The professor continued on with the lesson, introducing the topic of the day's lecture. I, of course, heard nothing (try as I might), because he was _still staring at me._ Really! What was so fascinating?

"Alicia," I leaned over and whispered into the blonde's ear.

"Hm?" She acknowledged me while still taking down notes.

"Have I sprouted horns?"

"What?" She turned and looked at me in surprise. "No. Why?" She was fond of monosyllables when answering questions.

"Don't look now, but Potter keeps staring."

She of course looked right at him, which, as she recounted later, caused him to immediately look away in a ridiculous attempt at nonchalance. "Yes, he was definitely staring."

I rolled my eyes. "Well I'm glad we've come to a unanimous conclusion." Sometimes she could be more hindrance than help. "I know he's staring, my point is that I want him to stop."

"No worries. He's looked away now. The matter is quite finished. Now if you don't mind I've a load of notes to take down." She then returned to her quill and once again began to scribble away.

I really shouldn't have been amazed, but I was. After six years of taking classes with Alicia, one would think I would have gotten used to her abrupt and unabashed way of dealing with people. I guess I hadn't. I quickly overcame my combination of slight indignation and amusement and focused my thoughts on more pressing matters – notes. The rest of the class passed without ceremony, and as I was packing my things to leave for lunch I noticed him again, only this time his back was toward me as he was exiting the room.

For some time I had known that the intense dislike I had felt for him in our younger years and at the time of the "incident", (as I had come to call it) in fifth year had dissipated, to be replaced with temporary anger, then confusion, then fascination, and then something I wasn't too keen on inspecting or admitting. See, after his display of unflattering and childish behavior that fateful afternoon, he took to ignoring me, which wasn't saying much since the school year was almost over. But for that Potterless week or two I was angry with him for continuing the immaturity. I, being the confrontational person that I am, could not stand him giving me the "silent treatment". Something big had happened and I wanted to talk it out (after, of course, my temper had cooled).

We finished our fifth year in silence, and then at the beginning of sixth year he approached me as if nothing had happened. He was, however, softened in a way. The years before he had always been a bit much, like coffee with nothing to curb the intensity. But then he was different, and he was speaking to me in a mature and friendly way. He seemed genuinely interested in my holiday, and I, so overcome by shock, reciprocated the favor. The year continued on in much the same manner - he and I occasionally having conversations about this or that, but never even touching on the subject of "us".

It was then that I began to notice how very physical he was in his approach with girls. No wonder so many of our house were practically in love with him – he treated each one with care and attention when he was around them; holding their waists, stroking their arms. And then shortly after I realized that he never touched me… ever. I began to become intrigued by his dealings with people, and even more so, I began to feel a little hurt that he never touched me in the tender way that he touched all his other female friends.

So I left the classroom, meditating on our odd history, and headed over to lunch where I sat with my close friend, Catlynn.

"Why hello, darling." She greeted me with her usual exuberance.

"Hey love," I responded. We were quite comfortable with each other, which, for some disturbing reason, a number of the boys in our year found endlessly fascinating.

"So I hear that Potter has resumed his one-sided staring contest with you," she stated while buttering a piece of bread.

I choked on my drink and put my goblet down to stop the milk from dribbling down my chin. "Who told you?" I asked her once I had composed myself.

She shrugged. "I just know these things."

"Right." As if she was telepathic. I liked to tease her and say that she was tele_pathetic_.

"You know I never reveal my sources."

I knew, and yet it never stopped me from asking. If keeping secrets were a business, she'd be ridiculously rich. People liked to talk to her because she always found a way to take their side and illuminate the good points of their argument, and it was well known that she could take a secret to the grave. Apparently keeping secrets was synonymous with revealing sources.

"Yes, he was staring at me a bit last class. I don't know what to make of it. He is an enigma to me."

"Why? Lily, he's in bloody love with you. You all should just get married already."

"Excuse me? What makes you think he's in love with me?" For all that I was trying to act upset, I couldn't help but feel intrigued and even a tiny bit excited. "He loathed me in fifth year, and we're barely friends now."

"Then why did he ask you out?" She continued about her meal in an easy manner, apparently not noticing that I was a bit distressed.

"Because he was being immature and arrogant, and was most likely dared to do it. We went over it a million times after it happened! You know better than anyone my whole diagnosis of the 'incident'."

"But that still doesn't address the question of his feelings for you."

"His feelings were more than likely akin to hatred."

Catlynn put down her fork and turned to me. She was getting frustrated with my over analytical nature, and would most likely use my full first name any second.

"Elizabeth," there it was, the full first name. "Stop thinking so much! My matchmaking abilities have never gone astray thus far. He really fancies you, and I think you would enjoy spending time with him."

I opened my mouth to respond. "And spending time in classes doesn't count." She said before I could pull together a comprehensive sentence. She knew me too well.

I cleared my throat and turned my attention to my food. "Well, if he really does fancy me then so be it. I doubt it though. And nothing would happen or work out anyway. Besides the fact that I don't have feelings for him, we're just too different."

"Indeed." Catlynn smirked in a way that only the closest of friends can, and we were both silent about the matter for the rest of the meal.


	2. Of Maturity and Mortality

A/N: It's kind of sad that chapter one got 57 hits and only one review. Oh well, I'm optimistic.

Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed

No Cure For Love – The Epilogue of an Incident

Chapter 2: Of Maturity and Mortality

I had read the same question from my potions homework over and over again for the last half hour. Something was definitely wrong with me. While my eyes traced over the words and understood each one separately; together they simply would not form into anything even remotely cognitive. Instead I was playing (and replaying) my conversation with Catlynn in my head, and recalling the feel of Potter's gaze on my face. I slammed my book shut and slouched back into my favorite couch in the common room. It was no use.

Midnight had come and gone, and everyone else had slowly made their way up to the dormitories. I always tended to be the last one to bed, and the last one to class the next morning. I was definitely nocturnal.

As I was sitting there before the fire trying to refocus, I heard the portrait swing open and looked up to see the very boy I had been unwillingly thinking of.

"Lily," he said when he noticed me. "What are you doing up so late?"

"The potions assignment," I answered in half-truth, trying desperately to ignore the funny things going on in my chest. "And where've you been? Out marauding I suppose?" I tried to keep my tone as non-threatening as possible, and even added a slight smile at the end to let him know that I spoke with the most peaceful of intentions.

He shrugged and sat down on the couch across from me. "I've been about."

"Ah." Nothing like an ambiguous answer to clear things up. A moment of silence passed between us before I felt compelled to say something. "So…" I began, "how've you been?" There's nothing so awkward as awkward silences (which I hate), and asking about a person's well-being is generally conducive to conversation.

"Fine."

Unless of course that person responds with a "fine" or "well", in which case one can only nod their head and reply with: "that's good", or any variation thereof. I gave the appropriate response then began brainstorming for another conversation starter. Fortunately, he beat me to it.

"Are you alright?" He was looking down at his hands.

Oh bugger. I really was not in the right state of mind (or mood) to be discussing myself or anything weird I might've been feeling. "Yes," I answered quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. You seem quiet."

I waved my hand as if to dismiss the notion. "Oh, I'm just tired. Too much potions work is enough to mute a girl," I lied.

"No," he cleared his throat. "I mean recently, the past few weeks, you've been strange."

"Have I? Well I don't react well to stress, maybe that's it."

He finally brought his head up and looked at me, _really_ looked at me. Most boys, I had noticed during my years at Hogwarts, generally could look a girl in the eye for only a few seconds at a time; and when they were looking at her, it wasn't really _looking_. It was as if there was some fearful thing in her eyes that they couldn't bear to see. Potter was not one of those boys and, quite frankly, it unnerved me. I forced myself to look right back at him though, even if it meant that he could see a little too deep. I was no coward.

He sat there just watching me for a moment before he spoke in a soft, calm tone that I'd never heard from him. "I worry about you, you know."

I couldn't help it – I had to look away. So much for heroics. "Why?"

He took a long while in answering. For a moment I thought he hadn't heard me, but when I looked at him he was scratching his head with a look of deep concentration on his face. Finally he spoke: "Look Lilly, I care for you," he took a breath, "a lot. I've always thought you were an interesting girl, but it took me up to fifth year to realize that maybe my fascination with you was more than just platonic interest. I was a complete wanker that afternoon by the lake, but I had to prove to Sirius that I wasn't a pansy, even though I fancied a girl. I wasn't dared to ask you on a date, and I didn't get any money for doing it either. It was spur of the moment charm that I thought you wouldn't be able to resist."

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have recognized his comment about betting as something I had mentioned earlier to Catlynn. But for the time I was too struck by his sincerity to notice.

"I just want to make sure that you're alright," he finished.

At that moment a plethora of emotions hit me, but none so prominent as that same resounding question in my head – 'why?' _Why _did he say that? _Why_ did he claim to care for me? I couldn't understand how I could be important to anyone. He had rendered me speechless, despite my having so much to say. I sat there contemplating my reply, and all I ended up getting out was a shaky, "oh". My eyes began to burn with unshed tears, and I felt more vulnerable and ridiculous than I had in a long time. I took a number of deep breaths, wishing that there were some spell that could magic away the river that my internal workings had summoned. Finally I composed myself enough to be capable of a steady voice.

"It's just… for six years we've all been living in this fantasy castle, learning how to work magic. It's all been so surreal. And now life is beginning to hit me. I've finally come to terms with the fact that my sister has practically disowned me. " I had started out well, but I was steadily declining into a puddle of flying emotions and nonsensical sentences. "I don't know where I'm going after Hogwarts – do I live in the magical world or the muggle world? My confidence is at an all time low thanks to stupid teenage hormones and social pressure, and I feel as if every day that we come closer to the end of the school year, the closer I get to becoming a failure." I took a deep breath, trying to really calm myself down and stem the violent flow of tears. "I just feel so lost in everything," I finished quietly. The load I had been carrying for quite some time was suddenly lifted, and I felt free.

Sometime during my speech Potter had come to sit by me, and that's all he did – sit with his hands on his knees and listen to me spill my overly self-pitying personal drama. When I had ended he gave me a moment to gather myself back together before he knelt in front of me, placing his hands on the couch on either side of my lap. "Smart Elizabeth Evans so troubled by thoughts that we mortals have?"

I gave a tiny smile in spite of myself. Sirius the dunce perpetually made references to my similarities with Athena, a goddess of ancient Greece, ever since Remus had read the book _De-Mythifying Myths Behind Muggle Myths _and described some of the more exciting myths to Sirius.

"You, of course, must live in the magical world," he continued. "You're too talented. It would be a waste of your ability to forget it and go back to being a muggle. You're smart, Lily. Ask anyone and they'll tell you." He paused, and then ever so slowly he reached forward with his right hand and touched my arm. "I want you to live in the magical world. Don't you want to stay connected with Catlynn, and Alicia, and Rebecca?"

"Yeah, that's the problem. I just don't know anything at this point. I wish someone would make the decisions for me."

He ran his hand through his hair, though I barely noticed. "Do you want me to do anything?"

I looked at him the same way he looked at me – in a searching manner. I had very little left to hide from him and so I found that I was numb to the overwhelming effects of his gaze, at least for the moment. "You don't have to do anything. You've done more than enough by just sitting and listening to me wallow in self-pity."

"You were hardly wallowing in self-pity. You're too hard on yourself, and you think too much. Just relax. Live and enjoy life. We're only young once."

I found myself beginning to get defensive. I was rather conservative when it came to the idea of _carpe diem._ I was not into pranks, nor was I an advocate of "loose living", as it were. I liked to think that I was too mature to act childish, and too intelligent to be stupid, even though part of me knew that if I could just set aside my pride long enough to have some idiotic fun, I would probably enjoy myself.

"I'm not going to go rushing to a tavern, if that's what you're saying…"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he interrupted. "You just take life so seriously sometimes that I think you get a little tense, and forget that it doesn't have to be so difficult. Don't get me wrong, you have some serious things to think about, but you also have more time to be a kid. The way I see it, you should enjoy your youth."

He was right. "Well it's a little late for that. I've come of age in the wizarding world."

"Yes, but you're still at school, and in my book that means you're still a kid." He smiled at me and I finished drying my eyes with the back of my hand in response. Then rather suddenly, he stood.

"Wait here, I have an idea," and with that he ran up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

I sat there, confused and embarrassed, as I waited for him to return. My thoughts began moving again, and I progressively came to realize what had just happened. I had just told Potter, former enemy and annoyance, of some of my internal qualms – something I hadn't even talked to Catlynn about. And now he was off brewing some sort of plan that would most likely go against my religious observation of maturity and intelligence…

… and I was excited.

A/N: Sorry it's so short. Please be kind, review.


	3. Of Worries and Wonders

No Cure For Love – The Epilogue of an Incident

Chapter 3: Of Worries and Wonders

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After I had rather unceremoniously dumped my teenage angst onto Potter, he ran up the stairs to his dormitory in search of something that would aid him in his mysterious plan. I had only a few minutes to calm myself and get my puffy red eyes under control before he reappeared with some sort of blanket in his hand. I must have looked perplexed because he began to smile in a manner that told me something was up.

"What are you doing?" I asked him

"We are going out," he responded.

Well then! What a declaration. I was caught between my desire to participate in some sort of uncharacteristic rebellious act, and my fear of the very same thing. Those damn rules got me every time. I argued with myself (internally of course), and made a number of attempts to speak before he finally cut me off.

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Thinking."

"Well of course I'm thinking," I responded incredulously. "I always think."

"I know," he said while unfolding the blanket. "But sometimes you just have to act."

I sighed and put my head in my hands. My brain was beginning to hurt. I allowed him to approach me with the blanket and throw it over us both without protest, but I couldn't stop my questioning. "What are you doing?" I asked wearily.

"We are going out," he replied for the second time.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes I know that part. Why are you putting a blanket over our heads?"

"Look down," he said.

I obeyed and was met with quite a shock. Good thing he was so close or I would have fallen over. "Bloody hell!" I shouted. At that point I think he started laughing, but I was too caught up in the fact that our bodies had _disappeared _to care.

"My god, what is going on? Where are my feet? Potter! Seriously, what is this blanket?"

He smiled and shrugged. "It's an invisibility cloak."

Holy… "Shite. An _invisibility cloak_? They _exist_?" The shock factor did nothing for my intelligence.

"Well obviously."

I felt dumb, and that feeling was starting to calm me down. It was just that I was from the muggle world, and despite all my studying and my belief that nothing magical could surprise me after seven years; I was still caught off guard. "Wow," I finally said.

"Yeah. My dad gave it to me. Father to son type thing." I could tell that he was pleased with my reaction.

"This is amazing. I've never even _imagined _something like this. I can't believe this works."

"See? Muggles don't have anything like this," he said proudly.

"No, they certainly don't," I responded, not even trying to disguise the awe in my voice. I began to test out the magic of the cloak, moving my arms about and trying to catch my reflection in the glass and metal in the common room. To Potter, who was under the cloak with me, I must have looked ridiculous. He waited patiently until I tired of my experimenting.

"Come on." He led me toward the exit.

"Where are we going?" I hesitated.

He let out a loud laugh and, despite my knowing that he was laughing at me; I was miraculously un-offended.

"Don't worry about it, Lily." He was smiling and I couldn't help but smile back.

"I wasn't _worrying_, I was merely _wondering._ There's a difference."

"You were worrying. "

"I was not!"

"I think you were."

"Oh, this is mature."

"Be honest now, Lily. You're worried that something bad is going to happen. I've done this loads of times, just trust me."

Even though I was following him out into the corridors, I was still half-heartedly protesting. "That was the worst possible argument you could have made. You having done this before does not make me feel any safer, quite the opposite actually."

He looked at me and wagged his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, then grabbed my hand and quickened our pace. "It'll be fun."

By that point I was feeling oddly jumpy, but at the same time felt as if my mind had turned off and everything that I said was verbalized unwillingly. I was trying to convince myself that this surreal state of self had nothing to do with the nearness and sudden attention of Potter, but I was unsuccessful.

He led me outside onto the grounds next to the lake and took off the cloak. A cool breeze whistled through the wind and I couldn't help but feel myself relaxing.

"Doesn't it feel good?" he asked me while looking out at the lake.

"What?" I responded, not quite sure where he was going with this whole thing.

"The breeze, being out after curfew, everything."

With what little brainpower I had left, I remembered that I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that he knew what was good for me. I resisted him as much as possible. "I dunno." It was a lie. It did feel good.

He looked at me. "You can't honestly tell me that you're not enjoying this."

I shrugged and looked right back at him. "It's nice."

"Oh come on, Lily."

Something about the way he stepped closer to me, or maybe it was the way he said my first name, caused me to become overridden with a sudden uncertainty. This was my enemy, the one who would make fun of me and tease others who were unable to defend themselves. _But then_, I found myself thinking, _people change. This is not the same Potter that teased Severus._ With trepidation I watched him approach me.

"Admit that it's beautiful," he said softly even as he got closer.

Without thinking I replied, "It's beautiful," in a shaky voice. He was starting to get a little too close for comfort. He smiled and I felt any reservation I had wash away with his grin. I knew all the bad things he had done, and in spite of that, or maybe even because of that, I found that I was horribly, horribly attracted to him.

"Yes," he said huskily, "it is." By that point I could have reached out just a millimeter and touched him. He was so _close._ I felt, as much as saw, him lean forward and reach towards my face with one hand. And, to my astonishment, I found myself leaning forward as well. I put my hand out, brushing it against his chest, and experimented with the feel of him and where I felt most comfortable.

I took a step closer to him, placing my body snug against his and resting my hand on his back. He hesitantly brought his face nearer to my own, as if afraid of what might happen if he moved too quickly. We both just stayed that way for a moment, not quite sure where to go from that point.

"Lily…" he said slowly, almost as if he were in pain.

I was far lost in a dream-like state, and so I could barely comprehend what he was saying. "Yeah?" I responded softly.

"…Can I… would you let…" he struggled to get the words out, and so I helped him along.

"Kiss me, James." And he obliged.

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A/N: Woah, I didn't see that coming. Anyway, please review. I might add one more chapter, filled with lots of fluff, if I get at least 10 reviews. That shouldn't be hard, considering this story's gotten over 150 hits. Thanks guys!


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